


not-so-secret santa

by crooked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly hasn't had the best track record when it comes to Christmases. A mystery (but not at all a mystery, really) Santa decides to do something about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not-so-secret santa

**Author's Note:**

> [feuillyjoly](http://feuillyjoly.tumblr.com/post/90243120804/imagine-tiny-baby-feuilly-being-really-good-all)'s headcanon + [the-strangest-sea](<a%20href=)'s tags = the inspiration for this.

"I was so damn good every single year, too. And every single time, not a thing. So that's the story of how I came to believe Santa hated me," Feuilly says, finishing his tale with a little laugh.

Bahorel's stretched out on the couch, his back against the arm of it and his feet resting in Feuilly's lap. There's an empty pizza box and a polished off six-pack of beer on the coffee table. Bahorel doesn't even know how they got started on the topic of Feuilly's childhood, but he does know that his heart is absolutely fractured into pieces at the thought of him curled up in his tiny bed at the orphanage and crying all those Christmas mornings.

He sits up and swings his legs down to the floor, scooting over and nudging Feuilly with his shoulder. "That's fucked up, man," he says. "I'm sorry those assholes did that to you."

Feuilly nudges him back, smiling a bit as he shrugs. "It happens. Well, it happens when you've got an orphanage run by fuckers who couldn't navigate their way out of a paper bag, let alone take care of children."

Bahorel frowns and shakes his head. "Yeah, well. It shouldn't."

Feuilly nudges him again, a little harder and more playful, and teases Bahorel for being cute when he's all overprotective. Bahorel takes that as an invitation and pounces on Feuilly, the ensuing ticklefight sweeping the subject of Feuilly's early Christmas disappointments from both their minds.

_____

A few months later, it's Christmas morning and Feuilly wakes early. It's a habit of his that he's never been able to shake, even though years have passed since he was that hopeful kid in the orphanage who couldn't help but rise at dawn to see if Santa finally remembered him.

This morning, though, he isn't doing that. He is too old (and too jaded) to believe in Santa anymore. All he wants is to get a pot of coffee started before he and Bahorel exchange presents. He can always depend on that, if nothing else: the sloppily-wrapped but incredibly thoughtful present waiting for him every Christmas morning since he and Bahorel met.

He lets loose a jaw-cracking yawn, rubbing his eyes as he shuffles past the Christmas tree that all of their friends (except for Jehan who made the star for the top himself) thought needed a prayer circle rather than decorations. But as he opens his eyes to peek at the present he knows is waiting for him, Feuilly comes to a sudden stop.

There isn't a present. There are presents. He kneels down and looks at the small pile, counting at least eight packages of varying shapes and sizes. Feuilly picks up the box on the very top of the pile, and he breaks out in a huge grin. It reads:

> _TO: FEUILLY  
>  FROM: SANTA_

in Bahorel's familiar bold, block lettering. They're all labeled the same way, save for one that he hadn't noticed before. It's set aside from the pile, next to the present Feuilly bought for Bahorel, and it's not from 'Santa'. It's from the man still sleeping in the next room.

Feuilly gather all the presents into his arms, including Bahorel's, and he forgets all about the coffee as he heads into Bahorel's room. The fondest smile comes across his face as he sees him there in his bed, arm slung over his head like it always is, dead to the world. Feuilly deposits the presents at the foot of the bed and moves around to the side so he can perch on the edge. He leans over and presses a kiss to Bahorel's lips to wake him. He looks a little surprised as he blinks his eyes open, but then he flashes a sleepy grin when he focuses and sees Feuilly.

"What was that for?" he asks, pushing himself up to sit back against his pillows. The kiss is their very first, though Courfeyrac has been insistently telling them that they've been dating for ages now.

Feuilly bites his lip and grins. "For the presents." He plucks another kiss from Bahorel's lips, adding, "Santa."

Bahorel's grin is wide as he asks, "How did you know it was me?"

Feuilly laughs, grabbing the presents and hauling them up to the head of the bed. "Just had a hunch." He settles right beside Bahorel, their arms pressed together, and he hands him the gift he bought for him. "Merry Christmas, Bahorel."

Bahorel takes the present and and reaches for the one he labeled from himself, pressing it into Feuilly's hands. "Merry Christmas, Feuilly."

They lean in at the same time, laughing as their lips meet yet again. When they pull back, Feuilly is grinning at the present in his hands with the most childlike expression of excited anticipation on his face. Bahorel tips his head back and laughs, tells him to go for it, and watches with the warmest heart as Feuilly tears into all the overdue presents he should've had a long time ago.


End file.
